Need to Know Basis
by The Archivist613
Summary: a crossover in which Boyd and Raylan are more knowledgeable about the supernatural than anyone expected and Sam and Dean show up in Kentucky.
1. Chapter 1

Disclaimer: I don't own Supernatural or Justified and I'm not making any money from writing this.

Okay so I tried to make this story as accessible as possible to both fandoms and I hope I succeeded. If anything at all confuses you please let me know and I will try to fix it.

So if you are unfamiliar with any of these shows here is a brief synopsis (also you should watch them because they are amazing)

Supernatural: If you haven't heard of Supernatural by now I have to ask what webpage you have been hiding under. So it's a show about two brothers, Sam and Dean Winchester, who travel around America in a cool car and hunt supernatural creatures and it has a super cool and complex mythology and characters.

Justified: is about a U.S. Marshal named Raylan Givens who is transferred to his home state of Kentucky to solve crime in a ridiculously cool cowboy hat. He runs into trouble when characters from his past cause some problems in the present. One of these characters is Boyd Crowder, who is sometimes a bad guy and sometimes isn't. I don't want to spoil anything so I'll leave it at that. Basically you should watch it sometime.

Prologue: a chance encounter

Dean Winchester was stitching up his side in a dank motel room in Alabama when his phone rang. It was his dad, he knew because his dad was the only one that called him these days.

"Hey" Dean answered.

"Hey son, did you finish the hunt?" he asked.

"Yeah, the body was cremated so it was difficult to find what the spirit had latched onto." Dean started telling the story eagerly.

"But, it's finished?" his dad interrupted obviously not wanting to hear the details.

"Yes sir" Dean responded. Dean knew from his father's voice that he had called to give him another assignment and not to check up on him.

"I got wind of a werewolf in Chicago. You're going to need to get some more silver bullets before you head up there. I always got them from a woman named Mary Richardson from Harlan, Kentucky. If she can't help you then I guess you should call Bobby. I've got to go, talk to you soon." Then the call disconnected. His father got more distant with each phone call. It was like Sammy was the only thing that kept him coming back to his kids after a hunt.

Sammy was a sophomore in college now. He was doing great every time Dean went up to check on him. Even thinking about his little brother hurt but, Sammy was doing what he wanted to do. Sam wanted to learn. To him school was boring but Sammy, the little geek, loved everything about it. Sammy especially loved how it made him feel _normal_. Dean couldn't pull off normal even if he wanted to he was a freak and everyone knew it. Dean finished stitching up broken skin and checked out of his motel. He was on the road again. At least he had his car, a '67 Chevy impala, and some AC/DC.

Kentucky was a two day drive from where he was. He loved to drive; roaming like this was part of what he loved about his job. He could just go. Anywhere and anytime he wanted to. Save a few innocents from a monster along the way and he was content. Kentucky was a place he had been a few times before and he wasn't a big fan. The hills were dark and green and absolutely anything could be lurking in them. He felt trapped and he didn't like that.

Harlan was nestled in the mountains of Appalachia in a county of the same name. Mary Richardson was not in the phone book as expected but, he gave it a shot anyways. He checked into a motel and found a diner. Apple pie was the dessert of the day Dean noticed with a smile.

"What can I get you?" his waitress was a teenage girl with dyed blonde hair and blue eyes. She was pretty despite the globs of makeup covering the acne on her forehead.

"Hamburger, some fries and a slice of apple pie." Dean turned on the charm and the girl blushed as she wrote down his order. The food was good, better than he had had in a long time. His waitress came to ask how he was doing and brought a slice of pie with her. Her name tag said her name was Amanda.

"This food is awesome." He assured her. She giggled and scurried off to wait on the other costumers. Some of them were actively glaring at him but Dean didn't care. He left her a nice tip when he got up to pay. The older lady at the register was frowning at him so his smiled at her as he paid. Small towns knew everyone right?

"Hey, do you know someone named Mary Richardson?" Dean turned on the charm.

"No I don't, sorry sweetie." She smiled sweetly but seemed annoyed with him for some reason. The cute waitress did look a lot like her. Maybe Dean had been flirting with her daughter.

"Maybe she got married or do you know anyone else with the name Richardson?" He asked.

"I know lots of Mary's and I don't know any family called Richardson." The lady seemed to want him to leave now but was much too polite to say so.

"Okay, thanks anyways." Dean smiled politely and raised a hand in farewell.

"Mary Richardson's been dead five years now." A voice said behind him. He turned to face an older woman with a hard, lined face and stringy hair just beginning to grey. Dean frowned if she was dead then what was he supposed to do? Call Bobby? "Why you looking for her?" the woman asked.

"My father said she could help me with something, obviously my info is a little dated." Dean told her.

"My name is Helen" she shook his hand "why don't you come with me, see if I can help you." The woman turned to leave the diner. Did she know he was a hunter? Dean gave a small shrug and followed the woman out of the dinner. Once they were outside Helen turned to him and started to talk.

"I know Mary was involved with some things, what I don't know but, she mentioned that she supplied people with items. She believed in magic and other things like demons. Her husband didn't approve so she stopped or at least she appeared to have stopped. Is that what you came here for?" the woman, Helen, asked shrewdly.

"Yes Ma'am" Dean said seriously.

"She's gone and I don't know anyone else that can help you." Helen said. She frowned in disapproval about what he was here for but, didn't seem to be lying.

"Does she have any family I can talk to?" He asked.

"Her folks are gone. I guess talk to her son; he was always an odd one. If any of them know something it would be him. Go to Cumberland, to Johnny's bar, and ask for Boyd Crowder."

"Thank you" He said as Helen turned away and went back into the diner.


	2. Chapter 2

Johnny's bar was hard to find. He had to stop and ask for directions twice and people seemed really reluctant to lead him there. The bar had terrible lighting and was playing country music. There were quite a few patrons for mid afternoon. The bartender was some young guy with a lot of freckles all over his skinny face.

"I'm looking for Boyd Crowder." Dean asked.

"He ain't here." the bartender said immediately.

"Do you know where he is?"

"No" Dean pulled out a twenty and slowly slid it over the bar to the kid. "I still don't know where he is." The kid said frankly.

"Fine, get me a beer. Is he supposed to be here later?" Dean asked again.

"Maybe, he comes and goes." The bartender shrugged.

"Is there anyone else who might know where to find him?"

"Wait a few hours for his people to come in." he said. Dean wondered what "his people" meant and decided to ignore the feeling of suspicion. He went over to the pool table to wait. Other people came in to the bar as time went on. Dean had two beers and shot some pool. After the second beer Dean went back to the bar to talk to the kid again.

"Someone called him and told him to come down here." The bartender said before  
Dean had even asked.

"Thanks man." Dean ordered a third beer. A few people wandered over to play pool. Dean went to join them. Might as well earn a few bucks while he was here. Dean was winning a good sum of money when he was tapped on the shoulder. Dean turned and was startled to find someone standing right next to him. This guy had managed to get in his personal space without him noticing. Not many people could do that.

The guy was a few inches shorter than him with a wiry build and was wearing a faded black t-shirt. His black hair stuck out at all angles. He seemed harmless enough but, something about his eyes told Dean that this was a dangerous man.

"I'm Boyd Crowder; I understand that you have been looking for me." He said with a southern accent and carefully enunciated words.

"Can I have a word?" Dean didn't bother to act charming or even polite.

"Of course" Crowder smiled revealing perfect white teeth and spread out his arms in a welcoming gesture. Dean wasn't buying the act. He followed Boyd to one of the back rooms in the bar. The door said employees only. Crowder acted like he owned the place, hell, maybe he did. The room was a tiny office.

"What can I help you with?" he asked. Crowder sat on top of the desk facing the hunter.

"Your mother was Mary Richardson correct?" Dean started. Crowder's eyes narrowed a bit. This was shaping up to be a very different conversation than the one he had planned on.

"Yes" he confirmed.

"She occasionally helped people acquire certain items; do you know anything about that?" He asked the question vaguely in case this guy had no idea what he was talking about.

"I do, what is it that you're here for?" Crowder seemed surprised and Dean got the impression he was a man not easily surprised.

"Silver bullets" Dean said.

"I may have some. My mother was out of the business for a long time before she died. She told me some things and gave me what she had left over. I don't even know what half of the stuff is. No one has ever come asking about it before." Crowder had a faraway look as he contemplated the request. "I'll take you to it." He finally said. Dean followed Crowder. They turned a lot of heads in the bar as they made their way outside. People in here seemed to take special notice of Crowder's activities and now Dean was a part of it. He wasn't sure what that meant. They made their way outside. It was nearly dark; Dean had been in the bar longer than he thought.

"I'll follow you." Dean said, coming to a stop in front of his baby.

"That's a nice car, my friend; the roads we'll be traveling are rough." Crowder said. Dean frowned. He didn't trust this guy but, he also didn't want to damage his baby. "I'll drive." Crowder said, settling his internal argument and turned to his own vehicle. Dean followed with one last look at his baby. Crowder's vehicle was an old pick-up truck that Dean was surprised to learn actually ran. Dean felt uneasy leaving his baby unattended.

"It's not a nice as yours I'm sure." Crowder said as he got in the driver's seat. "I'm not a man that puts much value in cars."

"Obviously not." Dean just had this urge to look under the hood and fix it. Crowder laughed. He seemed content with the silence as he drove but, Dean was getting restless. This situation was just too odd and Dean kept his hand close to his weapon. The radio was picking up some type of folk/country station that made Dean twitch in irritation but, he wouldn't mess with someone else's music.

"So your mom was a hunter?" Dean asked.

"She didn't seek out the supernatural but, she gathered materials for those that did. Others in her family were hunters. None of them lived that long." Crowder glanced sideways at him.

"She sounds like she was an interesting lady." Dean offered.

"How did you learn about all this?" Crowder asked.

"My dad" he said.

"I assume there's some tragic back story behind that statement." Crowder said. Dean glared at him but didn't say anything. "Is your father still alive?"

"Yes."

"Are you close?" Crowder asked. Dean didn't really know how to answer that question.

"I thought we were."

"How old are you, kid?" Crowder asked with a world weary sigh.

"What does it matter?"

"I suppose it doesn't." Crowder sounded sort of wistful. He couldn't be more than ten years older than him Dean noted.

"And how long have you been doing this?"

"All my life." Dean said without any type of emotion behind the statement at all.

"Just you and your dad?"

"And my brother Sammy. He's at college now." Dean didn't know why he was telling all this to a stranger. He just got the impression that if he tried to put on a mask Boyd Crowder would be able to see through it anyways.

"Back home?"

"He's at Stanford out in California."

"You look very proud of him."

"I am he's a smart kid and he deserves it."

"I have a younger brother, all of his dreams involved getting a football scholarship and using it to get out of here. My daddy even thought he could do it. I was more pragmatic but, they didn't want to listen to me." Dean felt like he was seeing Crowder without his mask on too.

"What does he do now?"

"He digs coal."

"Sounds like a shitty job."

"It is, do it long enough and a man will be desperate to do anything else." Crowder was finally silent and Dean was left to wonder what kind of guy he was sitting next to. They went down several back roads and tree branches scraped at the outside of the truck. Dean was suddenly glad he hadn't brought the impala down this stretch of what might be called a road. They had been driving in a dark forest for ten minutes now.

"This is the perfect place to get murdered." Dean muttered under his breath. Crowder chuckled.

"It's just up ahead." The truck finally stopped. They were in an overgrown clearing that contained a small wood cabin. Crowder left the headlights of the truck on as they stepped out of the vechicle. Dean kept a hand close to his gun at all times.

"My great-grandmother's place" Crowder explains unnecessarily. Crowder walks in, the place isn't locked apparently. The cabin is old, an actual log cabin. The stairs shift under his weight. Dean didn't like it here, something about a home remaining long after its inhabitants have passed. It was strange. Crowder had a flashlight.

"There's no electricity here." he says. Dean briefly flashes him and incredulous look. Crowder smiles at his expression anyways.

"My great-grandmother was old fashioned and after she passed no one wanted take care of the place let alone update it." Crowder handed Dean the flashlight as he bent down to open an old cardboard box against the wall. It was filled with books.

"I once tried to read some of these, couldn't make heads nor tails of it. There are only four boxes. If you know what this stuff is take it. I don't need it."

"Thank you, I'm sure they'll be useful."

"You know I thought she was crazy? She told me stories of hunters in her family but, I never believed her and my father was a man that was firmly entrenched in reality. He forbid her from speaking of it. Then one day people started disappearing and Mama called a hunter to take care of it. The man called it a wendigo. I saw it, me and a friend. It wasn't human and I believed her after that."

"And you never did anything with your knowledge?" Dean didn't intend for his tone to be accusatory but it came out that way.

"My place in this world was chosen by my father as well." Crowder said while looking straight at Dean. The man's gaze was intense and creepy. "You never said your name." He asked.

"Dean Winchester."

"The hunter that killed the wendigo was called John Winchester." Crowder said.

"That's my Dad." Dean was surprised to say the least.

"He bought guns from my family a few times over the years." Crowder mentioned.

"What is it that you do?" Dean asked even though he got the feeling that whatever it was, was illegal.

"A little bit of everything really." He said with a sardonic smile. Dean looked away and picked up one of the boxes. He wasn't exactly a law abiding citizen either but he had a purpose. He saved lives doing what he did. This guy was probably an expert on taking them away. When Dean went back in the cabin Crowder had found the silver bullets. They were in a plain wood box nestled in with some odd smelling herbs and trinkets.

"Thanks" Dean said.

"They'll be of more use with you than here." he said simply. Together they loaded the boxes in his truck and Crowder drove them back to the bar. Once all the boxes were safely stored in the impala Dean turned around to shake hands with Boyd. He turned to find him standing behind him with his hand out stretched holding a piece of paper out to him. Dean gave him a confused look.

"My phone number." He explained. "If you never need help."

"If you're not a hunter I don't know how much use you can be."

"Well that may be so but, I do know how to use a gun and I'm quite experienced with explosives." He said with a manic grin.

"Okay well if I need to blow something up I'll let you know." Dean said with an amused grin. "You're okay man, take care of yourself." Dean waved as he pulled out of the parking lot leaving Boyd Crowder standing in the poorly lit parking lot.


	3. Chapter 3

Author's note: So I'm not writing this as quickly as I had hoped, my apologies, I've spent a good bit of time watching videos of comic con. That's normal right?

So this next part takes place several years later. Around season two for supernatural and after season three for justified. This part will also contain spoilers for justified. It was necessary to explain some of the characters

"Raylan, Go down to the Coroner and stare him down until he gets this autopsy finished!" Art shouted before retreating into his office to yell at someone else over the phone. Raylan cringed and looked over at his fellow Marshal, Rachel Brooks, and they shared a grim look. Rachel gave a little shrug as if to say "tough luck." Raylan was getting the brunt of Art's anger and he wasn't going to get any sympathy from his co-workers. To be fair he probably deserved it. At least this time his boss wasn't pissed at him, he was just taking it out on him. Raylan stood and walked out of the office feeling like a scolded hound dog.

Deputy Chief Art Mullen was pissed because they had a serial killer on their hands and they were getting nowhere in their investigation. Normally this wasn't part of the Marshal's purview but, the second victim had been a witness that the Marshal's had placed here in Lexington for her protection. So far it seemed like Melissa Johnson's WITSEC status had nothing to do with her murder. She was simply at the wrong place at the wrong time, which seemed like that had been the story of her life.

The fourth victim had been found last night and they were all waiting for the coroner to find something. All bodies had been drained of blood and then dumped in their homes. They had no evidence on the killer. The media was calling him "Dracula" which was certainly not the most creative thing Raylan had heard this week. The victims had nothing in common. All ages, both genders, and all had been found in their own homes with no sign of forced entry. All law enforcement agencies seemed to be involved in some way and it was hard to know who knew what around here. The whole investigation was a mess that he didn't really want to be involved with.

Raylan flashed his badge to get admitted to the coroner's office. The medical examiner handed him a file once he got down there.

"I literally just finished." The man said. The man's hands were still moist from when he had washed them.

"Thanks for working so fast." Raylan said.

"Same as the last victims. Bite mark on the neck. I didn't find any new evidence." he added. Raylan had figured as much. This guy was good. Raylan nodded his thanks and left immediately having nothing to say to the coroner. Something about this case, he couldn't put his figure on it, something was wrong.

Back in the courthouse Raylan opened the file in the elevator. Raylan looked at the bite mark; it was identical to all the others. They had nothing on this guy. No connection between the victims, it seemed to be a crime of opportunity. The wound on the neck hadn't been matched to any type of tool or animal. He was getting a really bad feeling about this. Raylan couldn't help but wonder if the media was on the right track by calling this guy a vampire. Stranger things had happened.

Once he had handed the file to Art he told him that he needed to check something out. He was vague when explaining exactly what he was doing and Art was too preoccupied to even notice what he was saying. So Raylan quietly left the office. He needed to figure out if vampires were real. So Raylan drove down to Harlan. There was someone he needed to talk to. There was only one person he knew of who seemed to know about such things.

Raylan Givens had left home when he was twenty and never intended to go back. When he was transferred to the Kentucky office he had gotten a motel room since he never planned on staying this long. Then some of his assignments brought him back home to Harlan and he had to talk to people from his childhood that he had never planned on seeing again. One of those people was Boyd Crowder. They had gone to school together but, they hadn't really talked until they were older. They were both nineteen when they had dug coal together. Raylan didn't consider them friends or nothing but, when you work a deep mine you learned to trust each other to watch your back. Twenty years later and Boyd was involved in all sorts of shit. He was something of a hillbilly criminal mastermind these days.

Raylan could have just called, he did have Boyd's number, but this was a conversation that he felt needed to be in person. He also thought it didn't look good for his phone records. A Marshal calling a criminal to talk about vampires? How would he explain that? He didn't mind driving anyway, it was peaceful. He passed into Harlan County and made his way down country roads. Raylan knew exactly where to find Boyd. He was living with Ava these days and Raylan still wasn't sure how that relationship worked. He didn't like to think about that subject at all. Boyd must have seen him drive up, he walked out to the porch to meet him. He had his hands stuck tightly into his black pea coat pockets which somehow made him seem smaller and sort of unobtrusive.

"What brings you by today old friend?" Boyd spoke first as he always did.

"I need to talk to you." Raylan said seriously as he made his way to the porch.

"You wouldn't have come by for anything else. What do you need to talk about this time?" Boyd could tell Raylan was irritated with something, probably him. Raylan walked up the stairs and onto the porch so he wouldn't have to talk so loudly. He noticed that they were almost the same height, something that he hadn't noticed before. Raylan didn't like to think about all their similarities. Boyd twisted to face him. He cocked his head to the side in confusion. By now their conversations usually involved shouting or threats so Boyd knew that Raylan had come here for something not work related. Raylan looked uncomfortable and even a little scared.

"That thing in the woods when we were eighteen." Raylan whispered. Boyd looked right at him and he knew instantly what he was referring to. This was the topic furthest from his mind when Raylan had come here. Boyd looked away not able to meet his eyes. Raylan could see him put away the act Boyd put on for everyone and suddenly he looked much as he had twenty years ago.

"The Wendigo?" Boyd whispered. Raylan nodded.

"You best come inside." Raylan followed him in the house. It looked just as it had every other time he had been here. Ava didn't seem to be home. Boyd went straight for the kitchen and Raylan followed and watched as he pulled a bottle of Jim Beam from the cabinet and poured two glasses. He handed one to Raylan.

"You said your mama's family knew about stuff like this." Raylan started.

"What brought this up?" Boyd knew that something had to be seriously wrong for him to come here and ask these kinds of questions. Boyd took a drink from his glass as he leaned up against the counter.

"There are four dead bodies in Lexington, no blood and bite marks on the neck." Raylan downed the shot and put the empty glass on the counter.

"Vampires do exist." Boyd confirmed.

"How do you stop them?" Raylan asked. Raylan took off his hat and ran his hand through his hair. Why couldn't his life be simple?

"Have to cut off their head to kill them. Dead man's blood acts like a poison. It won't kill them but it'll slow them down." Boyd recited from memory.

"Dead man's blood?" Raylan questioned. Was that a euphuism or did he mean that literally?

"Blood from a dead person." Boyd repeated. Apparently he meant that literally.

"Where do you get that?" Raylan asked.

"From a dead person" Boyd repeated as Raylan was being particularly obtuse. "I can call someone to take care of it." Boyd offered.

"They have people that take care of stuff like this?" Raylan frowned. How come no one had ever heard of these people? What kind of people would take care of vampires?

"They call themselves hunters and they kill things like vampires." Boyd said. He could tell Raylan had more questions but didn't ask them.

"I don't know where the vampire is or anything or even if it is a vampire. Maybe someone's just playing a prank." Raylan looked like he wanted to back out of the whole deal.

"I'll call and they will take care of it." Boyd assured him. Raylan poured himself another glass and drank it.

"Thanks" Raylan put on his cowboy hat and left abruptly without saying anything else. Boyd was used to such things and wasn't offended. Raylan would pretend this whole conversation didn't happen. After he left Boyd made a call to someone that he hadn't seen in a long time. He hoped the number was still in use. What if he couldn't get a hold of him. He didn't know any other hunters.

"Dean Winchester" he picked up on the third ring. Boyd sighed in relief.

"This is Boyd Crowder. Are you looking for a case?" He asked.

"Why you got one?" Dean asked gruffly.

"As a matter of fact, I just heard that there is a vampire in Lexington, Kentucky."

"What makes you think that?" Dean asked surprised that Boyd had called him.

"Four bodies, exsanguinated."

"What?" Dean didn't know why Boyd used words no one had ever heard of, probably just to annoy him.

"Drained of blood." Boyd explained.

"I'll look into it." Dean promised.

"Thank you and if you need anything you know where to find me." Boyd snapped his phone shut to end the call.


	4. Chapter 4

Sam looked up as Dean entered the hotel room carrying Chinese takeout.

"I found a case." Sam blinked in surprise and stared at his older brother. How could he have stumbled onto a case in the last twenty minutes?

"What?"

"I got a call from a guy I know. He said there's a vampire in Lexington, Kentucky." Sam frowned at that. Dean didn't know people. They lived on the road in the cheapest motels they could find. Dean didn't have friends.

"Who is this guy?" Sam asked immediately.

"Just a guy I know" Dean said causally.

"Is he a hunter?"

"No, just a guy that knows some stuff." Dean shot him an annoyed look. Was it just him or was Dean being evasive?

"What's his name?"

"Boyd Crowder." Sam was certain he had never heard the name mentioned.

"When did you meet him?"

"Couple of years ago. Why do you need to know?" Dean looked over at Sam and narrowed his eyes. Sam needed to know everything, he always had. Couldn't he just trust his judgment for once?

"Just curious." Sam shrugged and waiting a moment before asking one last question. " So you trust this guy's intel?"

"I said we'll look into it." Dean said with a certain finality and handed him his carton of takeout and a plastic fork with irritated movements. Dean flopped down on the bed nearest to the door and turned on the TV. Some silly doctor show was on that Dean enjoyed. Sam was curious so he pulled out his laptop and starting researching the case. It was soon obvious something was going on in Lexington. The murders were all over the news. The victims were all found in their homes with no sign of forced entry. Strange neck wound and no blood. It certainly seemed like a vampire. They would probably hit the road tomorrow.

Sam was still curious about this dude. Sam was with his brother all day everyday and hadn't heard about him and Dean had like ten contacts in his phone. Sam ate his bad takeout and looked over at Dean every few minutes waiting for him to fall asleep. Dean went to sleep early so they could get up early the next morning.

As soon as Dean drifted off. Sam fired up the laptop again and typed in the name "Boyd Crowder" several interesting news reports showed up. The latest seemed to involve Crowder threatening to kill a federal agent and ended with Crowder getting shot in the chest. Sam assumed he survived since Dean had just received a call from him. He also seemed to be involved with some white supremacists and robbed banks on a semi-regular basis. He had two assaults on his record.

This didn't seem like a guy that anyone wanted to associate with so why did he have Dean's number? Sam looked over at his brother's sleeping form. There had to be a story there.

Three days later found the Winchesters in Lexington. A college girl had been found dead the night before and Sam and Dean donned their FBI costumes and went to talk to the girl's roommate, Lisa something.

"What time did you get home?" Sam, today he was Agent Young, asked the traumatized roommate.

"Late, like three in the morning. I was at a party and Carrie had an exam she was really worried about so she stayed home." The poor girl had come home to find her friend dead on the couch staring with lifeless eyes at the television.

"Has there been anyone new in her life recently?" Sam asked gently. Dean poked around the apartment looking for anything out of the ordinary. He subtly checked the EMF reader, nothing.

"You mean like a boyfriend?" she sniffled.

"Yeah, someone like that?"

"No, I don't think so." The girl got another tissue and dabbed her eyes.

"Did Carrie have any enemies, was anyone holding a grudge?"

"No nothing like that."

"Okay thank you very much for your time. Give us a call if you need anything." Sam handed her the card with his fake name and current cell phone number. The girl blew her nose loudly after she had taken the card. As he stood to leave there was a sharp knock on the door. The roommate, Lisa, answered it. The door swung open to reveal two professionally dressed people that were obviously some type of federal agents. Sam and Dean exchanged quick glances. If they were the real FBI they were screwed.

"I'm Deputy U.S. Marshal Rachel Brooks and this is Deputy Gutterson. I need to ask you a few questions." The well-dressed African American lady was the one that spoke. She wore her hair in a tight bun. She was pretty with minimal makeup and had an air of confidence. Her partner was a very bored looking lanky young man with light brown hair. He was watching the Winchesters.

"Um, don't you guys like talk to each other or something?" Lisa looked between all four of them in confusion.

"We're different agencies so we have to conduct separate investigations." Dean said smoothly. Lisa nodded like she understood but really didn't want to go through this again. "We'll get out of your hair." Dean said and made his way to the door. He paused for a brief moment in the door frame before smiling at the Marshals and making his way down the driveway with Sam on his heels.

"The trash can by the door was completely empty except for a Starbuck's cup." Dean says once they were out of earshot.

"Okay?" Sam said not understanding what Dean was saying.

"So she is up late studying right? So maybe she goes out to get some coffee and a vampire follows her home."

"The vampire could follow her home at any point."

"None of the other victims were college students. I mean the vampire has to be picking his victims somehow."

"He could just be wandering the street at random!" Sam said. "There may not be a way to find this guy."

"We'll find him. Calm down Samantha we've only been on this case for less than a day." As they got in the impala Sam glanced back at the apartment. The Marshal's had been ushered inside. The man, Gutterson, was staring at them from the window.

"Don't Marshal's just take care of fugitives?"Dean asked as they pulled away from the curb with a rumble from the impala's engine.

"They protect witnesses also." Sam added.

"So why are the investigating murders?"

Marshals Tim Gutterson and Rachel Brooks walked into their boss's office to have a word with him.

"Did the roommate have any new information?" Art said as soon as they walked in.

"No, but when we got there two FBI agents were just leaving." Rachel told him as they sat down.

"So they got in on the action, I was waiting for that." Art frowned over this development. They didn't get along with the FBI. Tim and Rachel shared a glance. They had a suspicion but, no evidence to back up a rather serious claim. Art noticed their hesitant glances.

"Well?" he prompted.

"We're not entirely sure they were the FBI." Rachel spoke hesitantly.

"What do you mean?" Art's frown lines deepened.

"They seemed off." Tim drawled.

"Off how?" Art asked. Tim gave a shrug and slouched further into the chair. Gutterson appeared to be allergic to sentences that had more than three words in them.

"Cheap suits for one. They were too pretty and they drove a nice car." Rachel explained.

"A classic car." Tim added.

"So you don't think they are actually FBI because they're too pretty?" Art asked.

"It's just a feeling sir." Rachel said.

"Did you get their names?" Art asked. This inquiry would cause all sorts of problems but he trusted his Marshals and if they said something was wrong, something was definitely wrong.

"Agents Young and Plant" Rachel told him.

"I'll call Barkley; see if he's heard of these guys." Art told them. it would be easy enough to ask the FBI which agents were on the case except that meant he actually had to deal with agent Barkley.

"One of them noticed something in the garbage can. It was a coffee cup from Starbucks." Tim managed two whole sentences.

"You think this guy is meeting people in a coffee shop and what? Following them home?" Art said. Tim and Rachel shrugged. No one else had any better ideas.

"See if there's any Starbuck's central to all the victims' houses." Art knew this was a slim lead but they weren't getting anywhere on this case.

"Got it." Tim went to his desk and started his search. It didn't take too long to discover a pattern once it all came into focus. He left the Google map up on his computer so that Rachel would see it once she got back to her desk. Tim went to Art's office. He was on the phone but when he saw Tim standing by the door he waved him in.

"Starbucks on Versailles road. It's within walking distance of Victim number two and number five. It's on the way to work for victim number one and near victim number three's boyfriend's house. I haven't found the connection to number four yet." Tim drawled.

"I've been on hold with the FBI for five minutes." Art sounded exasperated. "You take Raylan and check out this place. See if anyone creepy has been hanging out there." he ordered. They both knew this was all circumstantial at best but, Tim had a feeling that they were on the right track. Tim nodded and made his way to Raylan's desk.

"Come on, we're getting coffee." Raylan looked up in confusion.

"I have some but, thanks." Raylan pointed to the coffee cup on his desk.

"I think our guy is picking his victims from the coffee shop." Tim told him.

"Right" Raylan stood up and grabbed his jacket. "What makes you think it's a Starbucks?" he asked as they were getting into the elevator.

"A hunch." Was all Tim said. On the way there Art called.

"I just got off the phone with our friends the FBI. They don't have an agent Young or Plant at the Lexington field office."

"Could they be from another office?" Tim asked.

"Barkley said he'd look into it. I'll call you as soon as I know something." Art hung up without saying goodbye.

"These agents investigating the case aren't from FBI." Tim relayed the info to Raylan.

"So we got fake feds investigating the case. Maybe they're the killers?" Raylan suggested.

"That don't feel right." Tim said.

"So you don't think they're the killers but, they aren't feds."

"Right."

"Maybe they're vigilantes." Raylan suggested. He had this nagging feeling, like he was forgetting about something

"Maybe."


	5. Chapter 5

At the Starbucks, Raylan and Tim split up to talk to all the people working there. They asked if they remembered anything unusual about that day of the murders or if anyone new had been coming in. They didn't really expect anyone to have any answers for them but, they had to try. Most of the employees had nothing for them but, annoyed glares.

"There is this one guy." One of the baristas answered. "He comes in at night and he just orders one coffee and sits in here for like hours. Something about him is just… off." She said.

"Can you tell me what he looks like?" Raylan asked.

"Black curly hair that was down to his shoulders. He had brown eyes and a really pale complexion."

"Thanks." Raylan told her and met up with Tim at one of the tables in the back. Tim had a cup of steaming coffee with him.

"Did you get her number?" Tim drawled.

"No, just the description of a creepy patron." Raylan handed him the paper with the information. Tim looked at it but, this guy could have nothing to do with their case. Tim turned to look at the entrance as the door opened. Two young men wearing plaid flannels walked in.

"That's them." Tim said immediately.

"What?" Raylan looked over at them again but, didn't see anything out of the ordinary.

"The fake FBI agents." Tim said. Something in Raylan's brain clicked. These must be the guys Boyd asked to look into this vampire. Shit. "We should go talk to them." Tim said.

"We don't want them to know we're on to them. Let's just leave 'em alone." Raylan suggested. They needed to get out of here. Raylan started walking for the door in hopes Tim would follow. One of fakes saw them and recognized Tim. Tim lifted a hand in greeting.

"They saw us." Tim said and started walking over towards their table. Raylan grimaced and followed his partner. He didn't know how he going to do damage control on this one.

"Hey" the one sitting on the left greeted them as they stood in front of their table. Of the two he was taller and had shaggy hair that made him seem younger than he probably was and he already looked too young to be doing this job. His partner had shorter and lighter colored hair and expressive green eyes. The care free smile he was wearing didn't seem to suit him. He seemed anxious at the sight of them and shot his partner a look that seemed to say "what are you doing?" his partner noticed the look and ignored it as he turned to look at them again with an even bigger smile. Tim just stared at them. It was unnerving and the fake agent's smile cracked.

"So you made the coffee connection too?" the fake agent said to break the ice.

"I came for a Carmel frappuccino." Tim deadpanned.

"Where are you guys from? I mean you don't work for the Lexington office?" Raylan asked before the staring match could go on any longer. They needed to know that Tim knew they were fakes. Shaggy hair glanced up at Raylan sharply. Raylan could see him mentally fabricating a lie while his partner just glared.

"We're from Colorado. There were similar murders there awhile back. Never caught the guy." The long haired fake agent said smoothly.

"What's your boss's name?" Tim asked. The fake agents looked nervous. Tim just had that kind of effect on people. "You can talk to him; I'll give you his number." Shaggy hair spoke again and started rummaging through his bag. He pulled out a laptop and several notebooks before extracting a business card. Tim took the card and dialed the number on his phone. As it rang he walked to the trash can holding his now empty coffee cup. Raylan sat down next to the shaggy haired kid.

"Did Boyd send you?" he whispered, studying each of their faces. The kid gave a little jerk in surprise and then schooled his features into a confused face. The other fake agent leaned forward aggressively and narrowed his eyes. He confirmed Raylan's suspicions. Before he could say anything Raylan said, "There better be someone convincing on the other end of that line. My partner already doesn't believe you."

"Don't worry, he's convincing. I'm Sam and this is my brother Dean." Sam told him since this Marshal obviously knew what they were here to do. Dean shot him a glare. "He's a fed." Dean practically hissed at his brother.

Raylan ignored Dean's hostility and asked, "Do you know any more about this case that we do?"

"Other than a vamp possibly finding victims at this particular establishment, no." Sam said, he was happy to have an ally in the law for once.

"Us neither." Raylan admitted.

"Tell your partner we're on the level." Dean demanded.

"I'll try but, he's persistent." Raylan told him.

"How do you know Boyd?" Sam asked eagerly in hope of finding out more. Raylan frowned as if he found thinking about that man to be distasteful. Dean was put on the defensive. Who the hell was this guy? How did he know them and Boyd? And here Sam is volunteering all sorts of information like their real names. And who the hell actually wears a cowboy hat? Though Dean had to admit he did pull it off.

"We dug coal together." Raylan finally said with a shrug. It was too long and complex to get into right now and with strangers. Sam squinted and clenched his jaw. That wasn't an answer.

"People still do that?" Dean blurted out. Sam shot him a look that said Dean was being dumb.

"Yes, people still dig coal." Raylan said; he actually got that question a lot. It's like the rest of America forgot how the lights turned on in their homes. Dean seemed to think about the statement for a moment before nodding his acceptance. Dean understood a job where you had to trust people with your life even if you didn't like them. Sam sensed that Dean and the Marshal had reached some sort of understanding. Sam huffed in annoyance, there was so much about this case that wasn't adding up. Dean was acting so odd and he wanted to find out why.

"You're the one that told him about the vampire?" Dean guessed.

"Yeah, I wasn't sure but, Boyd told me they were real and that he knew people that could take care of it." Raylan told them.

"We'll take care of it as long as you stay out of our way." Dean told him. He didn't need the feds sniffing around.

Tim chose that moment to reappear; he quirked an eyebrow at Raylan wondering what their hush-hush discussion had been about. Raylan waved a hand to say he would tell him later.

"I spoke to your boss and you two check out." Tim said even though he still didn't sound convinced.

"I'm so glad we had this talk." Dean said, clapping his hands together. "To bad we have somewhere else to be today." They both stood up to leave. Tim's glare followed them all the way outside to their car.

"I still don't believe them." Tim stated as soon as the door closed behind the fake feds.

"You talked to their boss right?" Raylan said. "So what's making your spidey-sense tingle?"

"I don't know, this whole case is strange."

"Well, they don't know anything more about it than we do." Raylan said to Tim as they walked to the car. Tim shot him an unreadable look. Raylan was going to have to tread lightly on this case because if there was anyone that could get to the bottom of this it was Tim.

**Also I haven't decided if I'm going to incorporate it as flashbacks or if I'm going to post it as a sequel but I really love the idea of Boyd and Dean being pals and hunting together and I'm thinking of stories for them. let me know what you think about that or any suggestions you might have in the comments. **


	6. Chapter 6

Raylan and Tim went back to the courthouse. Tim still thought something was off about the FBI agents and he was intent on getting to the bottom of it. As soon as they got to the office he recruited Rachel to help him. Raylan tried his hardest to act like he was helping without actually helping. Surprisingly it wasn't as hard as he thought it would be. Raylan knew he wasn't particularly useful with research or paperwork but, apparently Tim and Rachel didn't expect a lot from him and he wasn't sure how he felt about that.

About an hour and a half later Tim and Rachel came to his desk with an answer. Not only did they discover that the FBI agents were in fact fakes they were also criminals. Sam and Dean Winchester wanted for; murder, robbery, and grave desecration among other things.

"That other Marshal still doesn't believe us." Sam said as soon as they were in the safety of the impala.

"He said we check out." Dean shrugged.

"Dean, you keep forgetting you're wanted for murder and that guy Hendrickson is after you. We can't have Marshals looking too closely at us." Sam couldn't understand why Dean wasn't worried about this stuff. He was freaking out; hunting was a highly illegal profession since they had the tendency to get the blame for the deaths of the people they were trying to save.

"You worry too much." Dean brushed off his concerns. Sam settled back in his seat and crossed his arms in the adult version of pouting. Dean put in a Metallica tape and hummed along. He drove through streets looking for a hole-in-the-wall restaurant to have dinner and then found a motel. They checked into room seven and parked the impala right next to the red door. They brought in their stuff and poked around. It looked about the same as ever other motel though this one had worse lighting but, the décor was normal for once.

"I'm going to get some ice and some drinks." Dean said. Sam hummed in acknowledgement and Dean quickly excused himself. He roamed around looking for a vending machine while he pulled out his phone and dialed. No answer. He tried the second number Boyd had given him.

"Hello." A woman's voice answered.

"Um, is Boyd there?" Dean asked suddenly unsure. Who was this chick? Did Boyd have a girlfriend? A wife?

"No he's not, can I take a message? The woman asked.

"Just tell him that Dean called and I need to talk to him as soon as possible."

"All right." She sounded sort of annoyed even though Dean had no idea why and hung up abruptly. Dean had finally found the vending machine and got them each a bottle of water. Dean turned to go back.

He got to the room and pulled out the key when he noticed a black lincoln pulling up next to the impala in the corner of his eye. The Marshal stepped out, the one with the cowboy hat. Dean's first thought was that he was here to arrest them for whatever the police thought they had done this time. The Marshal stepped out of the car and looked up to see Dean. He looked startled to see him there. Dean froze.

"What are you doing here?" The Marshal put his hands on his hips in an aggressive stance that put his hands next to his gun. He glared at Dean intimidating. The cowboy would have looked more intimating if he hadn't been carrying a takeout bag from a burger joint in his left hand.

"What are you doing here?" Dean asked back. He was standing at the door of a motel with a key in his hand. What does it look like he was doing?

"I live here." the cowboy said. Dean frowned in confusion. What person with a stable job lives in a shitty motel? The cowboy clenched his jaw and looked like he wanted to say something defensive but, didn't have the words. He turned away abruptly and sauntered over to his room, which was the one right next to theirs. They both went inside their respective rooms without making eye contact again in embarrassment.

As soon as Dean closed the door behind him he said in an urgent whisper, "Dude, the Marshal lives next door."

"Which one?" Sam asked with a scowl.

"Green eyes, little goatee and the giant pretentious cowboy hat." Dean described him as he tried to remember what the guy's name was. He hadn't said his name had he?

"And he's staying here?" Sam asked in confusion.

"Right next door." Dean pointed at the right side of the room as if it had personally offended him.

"This is weird let's get a different room." Sam suggested.

"Shit, let's get a different motel." Dean said. Dean grabbed his bags and hoisted them over his shoulder. He turned to find Sam still sitting on the bed, pensive.

"Why don't we just stay here? He knows who we are and what we're doing here. He can help us with this case so we don't have to dress up as FBI again and it's less likely we'll get caught."

"Sam, he'll turn us in and he already knows where we are!" their argument was silenced by a knock at the door. Dean answered with a gun in his hand. The Marshal was standing there.

"I can hear you two so I thought I would come over and throw in my two cents." The Marshal walked in without an invitation.

"Look man, you just stay out of our way. We'll gank the vamp and we'll be gone." Dean said gruffly.

"You were easy to find. Sam and Dean Winchester, wanted for various murders and grave desecration along with some more colorful charges." The Marshal looked over at Dean. "I am curious, how did you manage to fake your own death?" Dean crossed his arms across his chest and glared at the Marshal. Sam stood up and stepped closer to his brother in case Dean did something stupid.

"It's none of you damn business."

"The Marshals put out a BOLO on you guys. There was even some talk about calling this Hendrickson guy that's after you two."

"Oh, that's just great." Dean said sarcastically.

"Are you going to tell them about us?" Sam asked.

"No, I mean what would I say to them. Get a different hotel and don't get caught."

"No shit Sherlock." Dean added. Sam rolled his eyes.

"Alright, so how are you going to find this vampire?" the Marshal asked.

"We're working on it." Sam told him. The Marshal waited for further explanation.

"Okay, then how did you find out about this case?"

"Also none of your damn business." Dean shouted belligerently. Dean's attitude didn't faze the marshal at all; he simply turned all of his attention to Sam.

"Obviously you are the smart one. You can explain things to me here and now or I can arrest you and you can tell your tale to my fellow marshals who will be less understanding than I." Dean started forward at the insult to his intelligence but, Sam held him back.

"We're here to help honestly." Sam turned on his puppy dog eyes. "We just started the case but, when we find something we will be more than happy to share it with you." Sam said diplomatically. Dean looked at him as if he had grown a second head.

"He's a fed Sammy!"

"He's not going to arrest us Dean; he wants the vampire taken care of too." Sam explained things to his more impulsive brother. Dean scowled. Why couldn't Boyd have handled this on his own?

"Well, I don't like him." Dean knew the words were childish but, he had already lost and wanted to get in the last word. Sam rolled his eyes.

"So how do you go about finding this vampire?" the Marshal asked.

"We were going to stakeout the coffee shop tonight." Sam told him.

"So Vampires look like people?"

"Yeah, right until they feed."

"So how do you know you've found him?"

"Dumb luck."

"Let us handle the vamp and you can go count paper clips or do whatever it is you do." Dean said.

"Alright, I will leave the vampire slaying to the _professionals _and I'll keep everyone else off your scent." Dean smirked and opened the door for the Marshal. "One last question, How do you two know Boyd? You're not messed up with any of his bullshit are you?" the question was addressed to Sam but, Sam didn't have an answer for him.

"What's your name?" instead Dean asked a question of him. The Marshal seemed confused and acted as though he was surprised that they didn't already know.

"Raylan Givens."

"So how do you know Boyd?" Givens this time addressed the question to Dean since Sam didn't have an answer. Dean simply closed the door in his face.

"Pack your bags Sammy" Dean said to his brother as his turned to get pick up his duffel and ignored the bitch face Sam was sending his way. Dean went to the office to check out of the motel. Sam took his and Dean's bags to the impala. All their things were never unpacked so it took no time at all. Sam knew he had a few minutes to get some answers. Sam used his long legs to quickly get to the Marshal's door and he knocked. The door opened a few seconds later. He looked surprised to see Sam standing there.

"What did you mean when you asked if we were involved in Boyd's bullshit?" Sam asked hurriedly, he really wanted to be in the car before Dean got back. There was something about this case, most likely Boyd Crowder, that Dean didn't want Sam to know about. So obviously Sam needed to know.

"Boyd's involved in lots of bullshit. I believe his current enterprise is oxy." Raylan told him in a casual manner that suggested that this was old news.

"Oxy? You mean he's a drug dealer?" Sam said in surprise. How did Dean know a drug dealer? Why did he know a drug dealer?

"Let me guess your partner's the one that knows him?" Raylan said.

"Yeah."

"look kid, I don't know anything about how hunting vampires works but, I know Boyd and everyone he knows is some kind of shady so you might want to think about getting a new partner." He said frankly.

"He's my brother." Sam said affronted. Raylan didn't change expressions; he still thought that he should cut Dean loose. Sam frowned; he wouldn't abandon his brother like that. Sam glared at him and turned away without saying goodbye. He got into the passenger seat of the impala before Dean got back.

Dean didn't get his money back from the motel but, he was willing to take the hit if it meant that he didn't have to see Raylan Givens' smug face again. As he was returning the keys his phone rang. It was Boyd. Dean glanced at his car but didn't see Sam. The princess was probably powdering his nose or something. Dean stepped outside so the receptionist couldn't overhear him.

"Ava said that you called?" Boyd spoke as soon as he picked up.

"The Lone Ranger is over here sticking his nose in things." Dean hissed angrily.

"The Lone Ranger?" Boyd sounded puzzled, "you mean Raylan?"

"Yes, apparently the Marshals are investigating this too. He knew that you sent us."

"That is not surprising; Raylan was the one that brought the problem to my attention. I assured him that I would ask someone to look into it but, I did not believe that he would actually interfere with you."

"It's nothing that we can't handle." Dean assured him, knowing that he was overreacting. They had handled cases with law enforcement breathing down their neck before.

"You said 'we' are you not hunting alone anymore?" Boyd questioned.

"No, my brother Sam's with me now."

"Did he finish his studies?" Boyd inquired.

"No there was… some stuff happened." Dean really didn't want to talk about this now.

"Have you made any progress on the case?" Boyd knew when to change the subject.

"We're going to stake out the place we think the vampire is finding his victims later tonight."

"Do you need any help?"

"No, it's best you don't." He didn't feel like talking to Boyd face to face. He would try to get Dean to talk about his _feelings_. The worst part was after having some of that moonshine he did actually start talking. He had a lot of grief to unload since the last time he had spoken to Boyd: Jess, Dad, Sam. It was all his fault.

"Alright then, I'll be in touch." Boyd sounded almost hurt and then he hung up. Dean snapped his phone shut and went to the car. Sam was finally in the passenger's seat. When he got into the driver's seat he could tell that Sam was fuming.

"Dean what has gotten into you?" Sam asked angrily.

"Since when do we need the feds help Sam? I don't trust him and I want to be as far away as possible from him." Dean defended his decision to get another motel.

"Okay I get that but, you have been acting weird ever since you got to Kentucky."

"No I haven't" Dean denied.

"I just spoke to the Marshal Dean, your best friend Boyd is a drug dealer." Sam yelled, furious.

"Sam." Dean spoke, begging his brother to let this one go.

"How did you meet this guy Dean? You aren't the kind of person that hangs out with drug dealers." The worst part was that Dean could hear the unspoken question, _"are you?"_

"His mom was dad's supplier of silver bullets okay Sam? I didn't ask for his job history."

"When did you meet him?"

"When you were at school." Dean answered. The answer seemed to appease Sam.

"When was the last time you spoke to him?"

"I called him when dad was missing but, I couldn't get a hold of him." Dean said. It wasn't really a lie; he had just omitted a few things. When Dad was missing he had been terrified and needed help. He had called Boyd but he wasn't answering. Which wasn't like him, Boyd had always answered his calls for help. So Dean took the time to drive to Harlan only to learn that Boyd was in jail. Dean forgot what kind of person Boyd was. How sad was it that the drug dealer was more dependable than his own father? He didn't tell Sam that Boyd had saved his life a few times and had helped him out on a couple of hunts.

Sam lived in a world of black and white and in that world you were not friends with a drug dealer, among other things Sam had yet to find out about. Dean lived in the murky grey area so people like Sam didn't have too.

"Let's just find the vampire and then get out of here." Sam said. Dean dropped off Sam at the coffee shop and told him to call if he found a suspect or was calling it a night. Normally they wouldn't split up for something like this but it had been a very tense car ride. And Dean didn't want to look at Sam's disapproving scowl. Sam was a saint and never spoke to anyone that had ever did anything wrong in his perfect little world. This was Dean's fault to. He should have cut ties with Boyd after the silver bullets. It was just business. He shouldn't have contacted Boyd again, no matter the circumstances. He wouldn't have to after this; he had Sam for back up.

**Okay so I know I said this is set during season three of justified and in season three Raylan is living in the apartment above the bar but, I thought it would be funny if they were in the motel together.**


	7. Chapter 7

**In other news I am still working on the story of how Dean and Boyd actually became friends and I will probably post it as a sequel. Basically all the background info you need is when Sam was at school and John was off doing other hunts and Dean needed backup he would call Boyd. After Boyd saved his life a few times Dean trusts him and Boyd is the one person who can get Dean to talk about his problems because seriously Dean needs to talk to someone.**

Dean was watching some TV in their new motel room and nursing a beer while he watched the clock. Sam was at the Starbucks. He called every hour to give Dean an update. It was nearing midnight and so far Sam hadn't found anyone suspicious. Sam had his laptop and a book so the little nerd was happy in his natural habitat and willing to stay a few more hours. Of course it would probably take days for Sam to cool off from this latest hissy fit. Dean on the other hand was getting bored so he started cleaning his weapons even though they were in perfect condition already. He had just disassembled his gun when there was a knock at the door.

Okay, who knew they were here? No one. Dean quickly reassembled the weapon and loaded it before moving to answer the door. He opened it to reveal Boyd Crowder.

"How did you find me?" Dean grunted as he stepped aside to let him in. Boyd just smiled that creepy toothy grin. Dean handed him a silver knife. Boyd rolled his eyes and made a little knick on his upper forearm to prove he wasn't a shape shifter. Next Dean handed him a little vial of holy water and Boyd drank it without any problems.

"Seriously dude, how did you find me? Did you put a tracker on my car?"

"I checked all the cheap motels close to the Starbucks. Your car is rather distinctive." Boyd was looking around in distaste at the dank motel room.

"I didn't tell you about the Starbucks." Dean was pretty sure he hadn't mentioned it. Boyd had passed all the tests but Dean still needed to know how Boyd had found him.

"I spoke to Raylan; he said you checked into his motel first." Boyd was grinning at that. Dean frowned was he really that predictable? "So is Sam here?" Boyd asked.

"No, why?"

"I wanted to meet him." Boyd said.

"You want to meet Sam? That's not a good idea?" Dean panicked.

"Why not?" Boyd asked, curious.

"I just don't think it is a good idea." Dean said, suddenly needing to keep his brother away from Boyd.

"You don't want me to meet Sam?" Boyd sounded like someone had just killed his puppy.

"I just don't think it's a good idea." Dean didn't want to hurt Boyd's feeling and yes, they were friends but, so far Sam had not reacted well to the news of Boyd's career.

"Fine." Boyd sounded annoyed and he sat down on the bed and made himself comfortable. Then he pulled out a flask from one of his coat pockets. "What else shall we talk about?"

"How about we talk about why you're even here?" Dean said sarcastically.

"I can't drop in on an old friend while he's in town?" Boyd said innocently. "You said some stuff happened since last we spoke." He prompted. In another life Dean imagined that Boyd and Sam would be good friends. They could talk about books and feelings and whatever else girls talked about.

"I'm not drunk enough to talk about that." Dean admitted.

"It's not a good idea to drink on the job." Boyd said.

"Sam's at the Starbucks right now on a stakeout."

"Do you know who the vampire is?"

"No" it was silent for a few minutes. Boyd took a sip of whatever was in the flask every few minutes and Dean kept thinking about how much he wanted a drink but, he shouldn't in case Sam called and knew who the vampire was.

"I got shot." Boyd finally said. Dean looked over at him in surprise. It hadn't really occurred to him that Boyd needed someone to talk too. "I nearly died and I woke up in a prison hospital feeling like a changed man and I wanted to change. I truly did. I found God." Boyd paused in his storytelling and looked like he was far away. Dean didn't really like where this story was going and he had a lot of questions

"When did this happen?" Dean asked.

"Earlier this year." Boyd supplied before he continued. "I got out of prison on a technicality and decided to start a ministry. I wanted to help others like me, Bad people wanting to change their ways. My father got out soon after that and I wanted to hurt him. I haven't told you much about my father but, he was an evil man. I blew up one of his meth shipments. In return he killed all of my men, strung them up in the trees. I wanted to kill my own father."

"Did you?"

"Miami gun thugs beat me to it." Dean decided he didn't really want to know why the Miami gun thugs were involved.

"I lost faith but, I still wanted to be good and I tired I really did. No one expected me to be a good man so why try? I've been doing some bad things my friend." Dean had never seen charismatic Boyd this downtrodden.

"The Marshal told Sam that you've been dealing drugs." Dean threw out.

"I assume the opinion your brother has formed of me is why you don't want him to meet me." Dean didn't deny it. Boyd nodded, it was a good decision.

"You could have been a hunter." Dean suggested.

"Thought about it but, Harlan is my home and there was someone I would miss."

"Someone in particular? The chick that answered the phone?"

"Ava" Boyd murmured as he stared pointedly at his flask. If Dean didn't know better he would say that Boyd was blushing like a ten year old with a crush.

"Wait, Ava as in your brother's wife Ava?" Dean said suddenly. Boyd looked up in surprise. He couldn't remember telling Dean about Ava but, they had done quite a bit of drinking in the past. He did think about Ava a lot, it was possible he might have mentioned her.

"Yes" Boyd said hesitantly.

"I assume your brother is no longer in the picture?"

"No, he is not." Boyd confirmed.

"What happened did they get divorced? Were you sleeping with her when they were still married?" Dean knew that Boyd didn't like his brother but, to Dean family was the most important thing and he couldn't imagine betraying Sam in any way.

"She had had enough of him beating on her and so she shot him. When things were bad for me she took me in. Then things changed between us."

"And how does she feel about you dealing drugs. Have you told her about that?"

"She knows." Boyd didn't offer any more information about that.

"Well, you've certainly had a busy year."

"Yes, though I feel better now that I alleviated some of my burden onto you." Boyd gazed at him solemnly waiting for Dean to start talking.

"Did you want that friendship bracelet that I braided for you?" Dean said sarcastically becoming uncomfortable as the conversation turned to him.

"No Dean, I think it would be helpful for you to tell someone else about what you have been going through. I've seen you after some bad things but, this is weighing on you more. If you don't tell me or Sam that's fine but, you need to tell someone."

"I'm fine!" Dean stood up and backed away. He didn't want Boyd to find out about this stuff and if there was anyone who could figure this stuff out just by seeing Dean it was Boyd. The man was psychic or something.

"Sam left because he hated hunting so what made him come back?" Boyd asked, intent on discovering the source of Dean's troubles.

"Dude, let it go" Dean pleaded.

"What about your father? Where is he?" Dean looked around the motel room, anywhere but, where Boyd was sitting. He felt it on the tip of his tongue. His confession trying to spill out. Tears pricked his eyes and he blinked them away. He could tell, Boyd would understand. Boyd wouldn't judge him. He opened his mouth and drew in a deep breath before he took the plunge.

Then the phone rang.

Dean shoved all of the unwanted emotions back into that jar and screwed the lid on tight. Boyd frowned in displeasure; Dean had been so close to a breakthrough.

"Dean, I think I found our guy. He just left and he's following some girl. I'm tailing him and you need to get down here now." Sam whispered into the phone.

"Be right there, Sammy" Dean answered and closed the phone. Dean gathered the weapons he would need without looking over at Boyd.

"Sam thinks he found the vampire." Dean explains in case Boyd wasn't able to hear Sam.

"I'll come with; I assume that you have enough weapons for one more."

"You don't need to come, we can handle this." Dean turned to the door with his keys in his pocket. He didn't really care if Boyd came or not.

"Of course but, I am here and wish to help."

"Fine." It would take too much time and effort to convince Boyd to do anything else.

"We can continue this discussion later tonight over a beer."

"As soon as this hunt is over we're leaving town. The Marshal's are onto us."

"They won't be looking for you in Harlan. You can come down and meet Ava." Boyd said hopefully. Dean didn't look convinced.


	8. Chapter 8

"I'm heading west on Versailles right now. Are you on your way?" Sam's voice came through the phone speaker.

"Yep I'll be there in a minute and I'll park and come find you and then we'll get this son of a bitch." Dean said and hoped this guy was actually the vampire because if he wasn't, well it would be awkward. He trusted Sam's instincts and if Sam thought this guy was a vamp then he probably was Dean told himself. Boyd was sitting quietly in the passenger seat calmly holding a large hunting knife in his lap. The needle containing dead man's blood had disappeared into the pockets of his pea coat. Dean got the sense that Boyd was disappointed in him and he decided to ignore it and focus on the hunt. Dean drove down the street until he spotted Sam. It wasn't hard to find Sam; He was tall enough to stick out anywhere. So Dean parked and pulled their machetes out of the backseat and hid them in his jacket. Dean fell in line next to Sam, covertly slipping him the weapons without missing a step. Boyd was a few steps behind as he waited to be introduced.

"This is Boyd." Dean indicated. Sam whipped around to stare at him and then shot Dean a death glare. "He came to the room and was there when you called." Dean felt the need to explain.

"I won't interfere, I'm here simply as a precautionary measure." Boyd moved forward so he was only a step behind the Winchesters. Boyd had never met Sam before but, from Dean's stories he could assume that the expression Sam was wearing now was what Dean called "the Bitchface"

"So who's our guy?" Dean asked. Sam pointed out the guy they were following, average height, black hoodie with some type of logo that Dean wasn't familiar with. He was following a young woman with long blonde hair and a red dress. Neither of them was aware that they were being followed, completely oblivious. They walked two more blocks in tense silence before the girl turned into one of the apartment buildings and made her way inside. Their guy glanced around furtively before following a moment later. Sam and Dean exchanged glances before jogging the last few yards and went inside the building.

The hallway was empty. Sam ran up to the next floor while Dean ran down the length of the hallway needing to figure out which apartment was hers. Boyd stood at the front door prepared to provide assistance in either direction. Dean came back to the front and motioned Boyd to go upstairs. A thump came from upstairs and Dean raced toward the sound on Boyd's heels hoping that Sam had found the right door. On the second floor the first door on the left was slightly ajar. Boyd paused at the doorway as he pulled out his knife and allowed Dean to go in first. Dean rushed in with the machete in hand to find the girl unmoving on the couch and Sam struggling with the vampire.

Dean rushed in, pulling the vampire away from his brother and allowing Sam to regain his footing. Boyd came in and turned his attention to the girl. She was unconscious and bleeding from a bite to her neck. Boyd rushed to the kitchen, narrowly dodging Sam, and started pulling out drawers to find clean towels. He grabbed a handful and rushed back to the girl. He pressed the towel against her neck and looked over to see how the brother's were faring. The vamp was quick. He grabbed Dean's hand and smashed it against the wall. The drywall cracked under the force and Dean dropped his machete. The vampire had turned all of his attention to Dean, completely forgetting about Sam in the process. Sam grabbed him by the shoulders and threw him to the ground and was quick to follow up with the machete. With only one blow the head was severed and blood splattered all over Sam and the carpet and the wall. gross.

Boyd pulled the girl's cell phone and dialed 911 with his left hand as he kept pressure on the girl's neck with his other.

. Boyd spoke to the operator and requested an ambulance. When he hung up he wiped his prints from the phone. He tossed one of the other towels to Sam. He wasn't expecting it and the towel hit him in the chest. Sam gave him a questioning look.

"Wipe the blood off your face." Boyd said simply. Then, not wanting to wait around for the police, they were gone. Hopefully the girl would make it. They made their exit casually and no neighbors poked their heads out.

They walked the few blocks to where the impala was parked. Boyd relinquished the passenger seat to Sam and got into the backseat and tried to be as quiet as possible. From the driver's seat Dean kept glancing back at him and over at Sam while he started the car. Sam was rigid in his seat with his arms crossed tightly across his chest. He glared furiously out the window. Boyd correctly assumed that Sam's anger was directed at him so Boyd continued to quietly stare out the back window.

It was a short ride to the motel but, seemed longer due to the tense silence. Dean parked close to the room and got out. The car doors creaked as they were opened and closed. Boyd followed the brothers inside much to Sam's displeasure. Once inside they started taking weapons off their persons and placing them carefully into a duffle bag. Boyd silently handed over his own borrowed weapons. Sam grabbed a clean shirt out of his things and went to the bathroom

"So where are you heading next?" Boyd asked.

"Don't know but, we need to get out of town before the feds find us." Dean said.

"My offer still stands." Boyd reminded him that he was always welcome in Harlan.

"Thanks but, no thanks." Boyd nodded; it was the answer he expected.

"Another time then." Boyd said. Dean shrugged in response and left the room to put the weapons in the trunk. Sam came out of the bathroom as soon as Dean closed the room. Boyd got the feeling that Sam had been waiting to get a minute alone with him. Sam marched over to Boyd and loomed over him, he was ridiculously tall.

"Don't contact my brother again, got it?" Sam angrily, the furious glare had not let up.

"I'm sorry but, that is not something that you can control. I know you want to protect your brother but, he does not need your protection. Not from me."

"If he can't see what kind of person you are then yes, he does need my protection."

"You do not know me, Sam; you do not know what kind of man I am. Your brother has been a good friend to me and I to him. He is in no danger from me. Dean has a sense of right and wrong, no one would be able to corrupt him if that is what you're worried about."

"Get away from him and I don't want to see you ever again. Do you understand?" Sam shoved him towards the door for added emphasis. Boyd pushed down his anger and didn't allow himself to react.

"Dean is very isolated and has very few people he can depend on. I won't let you isolate him further." Boyd told Sam before he left the hotel room. Dean was right outside the door when Boyd came out. He paused to say his goodbyes. Sam hung in the doorway, still angry. Dean looked between them, trying to figure out what had transpired. Boyd stuck out his hand for Dean to shake.

"I'll be in touch." Boyd said. Sam stiffened in the door way. Dean caught his brother's reaction and smiled hesitantly.

"See you around, Boyd," Dean clapped him on the shoulder as he left, heading for his truck.

"What did you say to him?" He could hear Dean ask Sam as he went back inside. Boyd got in his truck and drove. He had intended to go back home but, he realized Raylan would want to know that it was over. So he found himself at the motel doorstep in the middle of the night knocking on his old friend's door. Raylan answered the door in his boxers and undershirt, his hair sticking up in several directions.

"I thought you would want to know that the vampire is gone." Boyd spoke quietly as Raylan blinked as if hoping that Boyd standing on his doorstep was a dream.

"Are the Winchester's leaving? We kicked a hornet's nest when we went looking for them."

"They're leaving as we speak."

"Thank you." Raylan said. It was quite possibly the only time Raylan had ever thanked him for anything.

"Don't mention it." Boyd brushed it off.

"Guess what?" Tim stood right next to Raylan's chair.

"What?" Raylan asked as he paid more attention to his game of solitaire than Tim.

"We got a headless body this time." Tim spoke. That got his attention.

"You're missing a head?" Raylan asked; wait what case we're they talking about?

"No, the head's there it's just been severed from the body." Rachel clarified.

"What case is this?" Raylan asked.

"The vampire, Dracula, you know all the victims with bite marks." Tim supplied. "You must be going senile, are you working any other case?"

"And this victim also had his head cut off?" Raylan asked, ignoring all the other things Tim had said.

"No, two were found in the same room." Rachel handed over the case file which included some pictures of the grisly scene.

"Oh, I see" Raylan said. So the Winchesters had gotten the vampire. Good.

"Just heard from the hospital, the girl's going to pull through." Art came up to them with the update. They had gotten there in time to save the victim? These guys were good. Raylan was impressed.

"Did she say anything?" Tim asked.

"Yes, apparently the headless horseman over here was the one that attacked her." Art pointed at the photos of the dead man.

"With what?" Rachel asked.

"With his teeth" Art said with raised eyebrows.

"There is no way these bites were made by human teeth." Rachel said while Tim marginally lifted one eyebrow in agreement.

"And who killed our guy; the vic was out and didn't see anything." Art added. They took a moment of silence to ponder this. Raylan just shrugged.

"It's over now at least." Rachel said.

"Don't you two have a prisoner transport you need to get to?" Art stared pointedly at Tim and Rachel.

"We were just leaving." Rachel smiled politely at their boss and Tim did some nonverbal grumbling. With new assignments doled out they drifted away from Raylan's desk and he was free to resume his game.

This Dracula case was giving Art a headache. They had nothing to show for it except the knowledge that he wouldn't be around to hurt anyone else. Actually that was good enough for Art. Sure, there were loose ends such as who actually killed this guy but, they didn't have anything to go on. The Marshals had other things to do and they could start focusing on their other cases with this guy gone. All Art had to do now was finish the paperwork and file it away. It will give him satisfaction to put this one away and never look at it again.

There was a knock at his door and Art looked up to see a nicely dressed professional looking African- American man striding into his office.

"FBI special agent Victor Henrickson" he introduced himself. "I understand that you had a run in with the Winchesters."

The End?... (Spoiler Alert: it's not the end.)

**Okay so there is still one more chapter that I will post as the epilogue featuring Rachel and Tim. I don't know when it will be posted because I haven't actually written it yet. oops. I also have another story, a prequel, in the works so I have no intention of abandoning this verse and I feel that it has many more stories that can be told. I'm not going to make any promises as to when these things will happen because school is starting up again and I have a new job and just life in general is keeping me busy. Anyways thanks for reading! **


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